


White Nights (These Knights Aren't White)

by Matrya



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Comics? What Comics?, F/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-08
Updated: 2012-08-08
Packaged: 2017-11-11 17:06:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/480851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matrya/pseuds/Matrya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's not quite his and he doesn't quite want her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Nights (These Knights Aren't White)

Their backs are pressed tight against the crumbling brick wall that acts as the only barrier between them and a four storey drop. Another cigarette butt is ground out in the pile between their feet and she looks to him with the vaguest smile he has ever seen. "We used to come up here," she offers, talking about years ago when this was her home and she just wanted to run free.

Now she runs free and wishes for a home. They are alike in that way, and others.

Lighting up another cigarette, she asks, "Think I should change my name?"

"To?"

She shrugs, blowing out a puff of foetid smoke. "I dunno. Just...Faith. So not fittin' in." She takes another hit before letting her hand rest to her bent-up knee and slowly blowing out. "Maybe I'll be Erin."

"You do not look like an Erin," is the return as he pulls further into his coat. He grins teasingly. "Chastity?"

She laughs, full from her throat and filling up the dark. "Yep, that's me to a T." She realises then that she is to his left and wonders, briefly, if it bothers him. "I could be Dana Cunningham. Sounds sorta classy, don't it?"

Turning his head to look at her, he is still grinning. "Especially when you say it like that."

Leaning over, she nudges him with her shoulder and his arm wraps around her automatically, rubbing her arm through the thin mechanic's cotton and the smell of motor oil.

She doesn't stiffen, even to her own surprise, and lets him pull her into his warmth. "I've been thinking about it a lot, though. Faith Wood is pretty porntastic."

"Wood also lends to the Slayer entendre, though," he points out, remembering the days before she had a last name and the days when it was Southie. "And in this biz, you've gotta have Faith."

Her fingers, long and spindly with bright green painted tips, tremor as she brings the cigarette back to her mouth. Still, she laughs at the pun. "I recall you had enough."

"Oh, that was years ago." His hand stills on her arm. "Can't believe you remember any of that."

"I tried to kill you. Ain't something easy to be forgotten," she points out.

Smiling, he shrugs the best he can. "Who hasn't, really? Many have tried, none have succeeded."

"Thank God," she mutters.

The snow starts to fall in a dizzying flurry, swirling around them in frantic twirls and spirals. She grins and laughs, dropping her lipstick-stained butt and not bothering with putting it out. She stands, instead, pulling him up with her.

He looks at her, happy but confused. "Is this some sort of hysteria you've been hiding."

"It's snow," she replies and reaches up to brush the collecting flakes from his hair in futility. "The first snow of the year." His expression does not change and she hides her deflation well. "I guess you California boys just don't get it." Comparisons to New York boys, to her widowmaker, are left unsaid.

He kisses her quickly, because he wants to. He pulls back just as quickly, though, and his lips shock at the cold. He grins. "I spent the last three years in Siberia."

**Author's Note:**

>  **Memo:** I don't check comments or kudos, but feel free to yell at me on [tumblr](http://matrya.tumblr.com) or [check out](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Matrya) my other writing!


End file.
